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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26222764">Nothing is like it seems</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ff1c/pseuds/ff1c'>ff1c</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Scorpion (TV 2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:14:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26222764</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ff1c/pseuds/ff1c</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation with my own twist added to characters and series after season 4.<br/>Walter has secrets, there are some surprise friendships and ...what else?!<br/>PS: This is also my first written fic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paige Dineen &amp; Walter O'Brien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nothing is like it seems</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is also posted on my Ff account, with the same name.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>1. Where it all began...</strong>
</p>
<p>Tonight Downtown L.A. was blessed with a short cold rain, despite the heat at midday. The overwhelming, shiver-producing differences in climate, the damp, and empty streets built upon the solitude of the figure walking with a slow and almost defeated gait. The figure shivers and rearranges his jacket's collar in a vain hope to keep warm. Step by step, he looks up toward the flickering light. . .</p>
<p>He suddenly stops and raises his eyes toward the stubborn neon light above his head.<em> If I had a screwdriver and some adhes... NO... I am past that, It doesn't matter anymore </em>the figure thought.<em> Damn</em>; slowly, he looks down into the puddle that he stepped in. Pale visage, despite his darker skin tone, hollow brown eyes, curly dark hair matted to his scalp by perspiration and rain and an old scar on his lower lip and chin. . . "Walter O'Brien... .Huh...what a lousy man!" he told the reflection.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Slowly, I raise my eyes and look toward the parking spot across. . . <em>Now it's empty, just like me</em>, I told myself. No black truck, no motorbike, no red sedan. . . Maybe someday there will be others parked here.</p>
<p>I look at the building next to the parking spots, old red bricks, a big heavy garage door, and a reinforced wooden access door next to it. I know this building well... I can tell what's inside, I can tell that around the corner the yellowish-grey wall is covered completely with graffiti, I know that a back entrance exists and is locked right now...I can also tell that this building doesn't have a spark of life in it, and I do not know if it ever will again.</p>
<p>This is it, I think as I begin to walk toward the entrance. Again, I step into a puddle,<em> ten steps... </em>I nick a lonely stone on the road<em>... 8 steps. . . </em>the bin on the sidewalk rattles as the rock hits it.<em> . . 5 steps. . . </em>the night regains it's deafening silence<em>...1 step.. </em>. . I look toward the keypad and insert the code: "... .Ralph's birthday..." I told no one as the door unlocks.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The door opens and closes, as Walter walks in. Even if none has been in there for a few weeks, it's still warmer than outside. The stale air invades his nose. He hasn't been in here for one and a half months. The lavender scent, so adored by him and hated by the others disappeared four months ago; And eight months ago... one second he was in a relationship, with a team at his beck and call, and the next he was alone<em>...Almost...</em></p>
<p>He looked around him. Everything was empty with the dust settling around. He can still see where each workstation was: the workbench with tools where Happy built/broke something every day toward the back; Sylvester's desk is always the cleanest, surrounded by boards with different data spread across them to the corner; the lounging chair where Toby stood and looked around, snarling at everyone but always stealing glances toward the mechanic close to the center; the central table with the coffee maker where Cabe stood always. Then, close to where his desk was placed, there was<em> Paige's...</em></p>
<hr/>
<p><em>"Paige's" workspace</em>... the name spoken in my mind and pronounced out loud with a voice encumbered by sadness and love. I had everything a man can ever wish for, but <em>I damned it all to hell</em>... I scolded my self. She was a quintessential member of team Scorpion, but <em>also she was my</em>... My sudden thoughts brought my gaze toward the loft where memories, a few sad and filled with anger, but most of them happy, threatened to break out. I looked around myself and remembered that everything was sold; a load of mechanisms, tech, furniture... exchanged for a few cents.</p>
<p>I walk to the steel stairs and up toward the door. I open it, the squeaky hinges filling the entire garage with a sad wail and enter the loft, <em>empty... </em>as I expected. There is nothing there but thoughts and memories. A sole mattress occupies the floor and next to the wall a single cabinet, a sentimental<em>... who would have ever thought... </em>token from times long gone.</p>
<p>I walk to the cabinet, extend my hand and open the drawer... a flake of dust, a feather is the only thing inside. I still remember when I was desperately looking for a bottle opener when I looked a few meters in front of me and like an echo I hear<em> "Buckle up...nerd..."</em></p>
<p>Like a ghost...cold floor, beautifully long and milky legs... a white shirt erotically wrapped around a nude, enticing body... buttons undone, the material split to make a valley and in there<em>... I always liked symmetry and geometry... </em>the tantalizing curvature of her breasts... slim neck and full, pouty lips, with eyes glazed over full of love and lust, she appears in my imagination. Being a genius, I still remember that instant, when I saw her... what I felt, love, lust need, even if my EQ was not up to par. My heart beating erratically, slowly my mouth opened and my pupils dilated, filled with primal lust and then... I was complete... lost in instinct and emotion...my brain found the answer to an unknown equation... <em>and then...</em>everything collapsed.</p>
<p>I walk around the floor and stop where the middle of my bed would've been. I search around with my hands and when I find the place I push down twice. The secret compartment opens and there, vacuumed in a plastic stood a white shirt, the same shirt from my memories. I take it, step back and go toward the loft's exit. I almost run toward the roof's entrance to escape the past that's pushing onto my shoulders.</p>
<p>As I enter the rooftop, our balcony I see no tent, no green patch<em>, nothing</em>. I can imagine everyone standing around eating, talking, and enjoying ourselves after a mission. I can almost feel the cold touch of snow from that snow fight after a mission in Antarctica. I almost see Ralph looking through his telescope, Paige kneeling and embracing him as I stood vigilant next to them. As I walk to the rails, I can almost feel her touch on my arms, her body molded to mine, her heat encompassing my core,<em> her lips on my lips... </em>the absence of her embrace sending shivers through my spine.</p>
<p>But now, after everything that happened, it wouldn't be the same.<em> I was a fool...</em>I started to understand other people's feelings and I had a better handle on my emotions. But, the one I neglected to understand was Paige, she was always next to me, translating for me, and I applied everything I learned... and it wasn't enough. Thinking back, I wanted to spare her feelings, but <em>maybe I didn't proceed correctly? </em>Didn't I proceed fairly with all of them... maybe... maybe that's why they left?! I look back to my actions and everything I've done... <em>maybe I should tell them the truth, the complete truth?!</em> What could be told? Despite my actions, how I behaved, and how I spoke, I always wanted what's the best for them, I have done things for them that remained untold...<em>Perhaps, if I tell them now... </em>I think it's too late for that.</p>
<p>I need to find my equilibrium, my balance to think things through. All emotions, feelings, memories, and reflections increased my blood pressure. I feel too warm now. I put down the white blouse and slowly unbutton my shirt. The pleasant chilly breeze outside brushes my skin and eases my body. I balance myself precariously on the balustrade, my legs crossed, back aligned to the edge of the building, my legs crossed, palms resting on my bent knees and my head slightly bowed. I open my eyes, unfocussed...<em>breath in...keep...breath out...</em>and again, and again. "Now what to do..." I slowly whisper.</p>
<hr/>
<p>-Clank!-</p>
<p><em>That was the door! </em>thought O'Brien.</p>
<p>"Walter!... are you here?" Cabe's voice filled the garage.</p>
<p>"On the roof!" came the response.</p>
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